Acquaintances at the Faithful Bride
by a certain slant of light
Summary: In the Pirate Port of Tortuga, you're never sure who you'll meet, or what you'll get yourself into. ჯ JackOC. postCotBP, preDMC. DISCONTINUED.
1. For Hire

Author's Note: My first Pirates of the Caribbean story. Pre-Dead Man's Chest, Post-Curse of the Black Pearl. Rating will go up as chapters progress. Yes, there will be a sex scene, but if you know me then you know it's always in good taste. Keep a weather eye on the horizon for another upcoming POTC fanfic from me. It'll be Norrington-centric and romance categorized. And angsty, because it's Norrington post-Curse. **Edit:** This story has been released, and is called _The Promise of Redemption_. Check it out, if you like.

**Double Edit:** I'm reediting and rewriting bits and pieces of the current chapters before continuing and concluding the story. Did I just get back from World's End? Yes. Was I dressed as a pirate, weighed down by at least five pounds of gold jewelry on my hair, ears, waist, neck, wrists, and fingers? Yes. Did I love every second of it? Yes. Did I cry when You-Know-Who got stabbed? Yes. Pitifully.

**Reviews, feedback, and constructive criticism are golden and always appreciated.**

Disclaimer: I do not own Pirates of the Caribbean, nor its respective characters, settings, etc. The original characters depicted in this story are my property, however. **This applies to all current and upcoming chapters.**

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Tortuga.

The Pirate Port.

One of the only remaining places where you could get shot for brushing against the wrong person, where everything reeked a bit of piss and bile, and where no woman could walk the streets without five men badgering and bartering her for her "hospitable company."

The filthiest cesspool of human life I'd ever come across.

I loved it.

So here I sat in the most respectable pub on the entire island: the Faithful Bride. A bit ironic, seeing as how few women living in this area of Tortuga were brides, and even fewer of them were faithful. With that in mind, I grinned and breathed in my surroundings. The sweet aroma of rum, whiskey, rye, and any other beverage you could name (aside from water) clogged my nostrils with torturous delight. One could taste the humidity in the air, carrying with it tinges of dust, dirt, and most likely blood. Here the men were pirates and cads, the women were barmaids and flirts, and you were lucky if you left without a single bullet wound. In this Hell on Earth, the walls were alive with the sound of music, debauchery, and drunken idiocy.

If you could spend an hour in the Faithful Bride and leave with the ability to walk in a straight line, you were considered a god among men. Or in some cases, a goddess among whores. But I digress.

It is not by some terrible misfortune that I actually took up residence in Tortuga. No, I'm afraid that life was a fool and a drunkard's. My crew, or rather the crew of which I was a member, had been sailing for days with neither food nor drink, when we spied Tortuga just off the starboard side. I had never pictured it could like quite like it did in that moment: like an oasis.

Ironic to think a ruddy lot of land of the right side of a ship surrounded by sea water could look anything like paradise. But lo and behold, there I was, drinking my fill and enjoying every bleeding moment.

Now, it's a fair trial in this port to give a bloke five seconds to either run away or apologize before you beat the living shit out of him. I suppose, on that note, not a hell of a lotta gents get their share of fair trials. Nonetheless, I consider myself a tolerant woman, so I didn't go straight to kicking the arse of the man who put his muddy arm over my shoulders.

He was a portly man, with a scruffy beard and bedraggled hair flying every which way. His clothes were tattered and damp, thickly coated in dirt, blood and various bodily fluids – the standard for a place like this.

"You com'ere offen?" He slurred his words, and beheld me in a manner I could only assume was meant to be suggestive.

"Often enough. Now I'd suggest gettin' your bloody hands off me," I replied, my tone as calm and cool as the sea itself. Well, the sea on a good day (Calypso willing).

The man gave me a skeptical look, eyes widening and pupils dilating, I assume trying to work through his drunken befuddlement. He sighed, more like a groan and sending little droplets of saliva to nest in that forest of a beard.

"S'just as well, I dun' like 'em brazen," he muttered, removing his arm and wandering off into a group of fellow drunks. I didn't waste my time being offended; as a woman (and a pirate), I was confronted by that at a plethora of ports and pubs. No use starting a bar fight when I've already had three drinks.

_I know who's sleepin' with the pigs tonight,_ I couldn't help but think.

"Another glass of rum!" I yelled to the barman, not bothering with pleases or thank yous. Those were best saved for formal occasions, such as bartering for your life at the blade tip of an enemy captain. Not that that'd be anything I would ever be caught dead or alive doing.

The barman slammed my drink down, the crimson colored liquid spilling over the sides and forming a nice ring around the glass. I tossed him a coin and took another sip, knowing at least three groggy men were eyeing me, waiting for me to pass out drunk. They really ought to know by now that even prostitutes know how to hold their liquor. I was certainly no secondhand hooker, but I'd picked up quite an immunity while sailing with a handful crews all these years.

That last blinking crew was the bottom of the gun barrel. Not much use in a stitch, I'd come to find out. Tripping over their bootstraps trying to tie down a sail and too busy running around like frightened mice to fire a cannon with any accuracy. An inexperienced lot with a fitting captain, unable to govern a pack of pigs. No matter, I'd find passage with a crew here and continue my pirating until the next time I'd return to Tortuga seeking employment.

"Hello, love," I heard a voice beside me say. Less slurred than the other men here, and somewhat of a dark but playful tinge to it. I turned, expecting to see the next podgy man attempting to lure me to the "pleasures" of bed with him. Instead, my hazel eyes met rather the unlikely sight.

He was not overweight, nor old and wrinkled, nor missing any eyes or ears, and certainly not missing a tongue. I could tell, for his mouth was set in a devilish grin, that he was missing a few teeth, though at least he had the aesthetic decency to have them filled with gold. His eyes were dusted and smoky, intense but delightfully mad all at once. His hair was indeed bedraggled, but half kempt in the sense that it was kept in dark brown dreadlocks under a red bandana and worn hat, and accented with strings of beads. Although I was sure I'd never made his acquaintance before, he had unmistakable features that I was positive I'd seen on the wanted posters of most islands and ports I'd visited and/or pirated.

Despite his odd rascally handsomeness, I could tell he only had one assumption in mind. "Sorry to disappoint you, sir, but I'm not interested." Well, perhaps I was a little.

"Liar," he replied, all smugness and smile.

"Pirate," I grinned back, using the immortal comeback.

"English," was his response.

"What?"

"I can tell by your accent that you're English, darling. Perhaps a maiden plucked from her homeland by barbaric pirates? And the horror, but in the dead of night you escaped your prison using a butter knife you'd stolen at dinner, and sure as the sea you climbed into a longboat and rowed all your merry way to the first port in sight. Oh, but you must be frightened, love. Have no fear, for I can easily guard you against the terrors that are Tortuga." I watched him make up this elaborate story, not noticing as his arm somehow snaked its way behind me and before I knew it, his ring adorned hand was on my shoulder, squeezing lightly.

"That story is, in fact, one hundred percent accurate except for a few minor details: I was not plucked, I did not use a butter knife, and I am neither your darling, nor your love. Oh, and I think this belongs to you," I grinned, peeling his hand off of me and returning it to him.

The pirate blinked a few times, steadying himself on his bar stool. "I take it I shall not be bedding you tonight then?"

"My services are for hire, but I'm afraid they do not include the practices of a common tart."

"Oh? And what services are those, pray tell?" He leaned in closer, still lusting.

I leaned in towards him, lowering my voice suggestively. "Well..." I plucked the bottle of rum from his hand and poured some into my empty glass, taking a swig. "My services include sailing, looting, pillaging, plundering, raiding, fighting, shooting, drinking, participating in great battles at sea and/or land, pirating and otherwise committing great and terrible crimes that will secure me a nice, comfortable spot in Hell." I held up the bottle. "Rum?"

He took it back, confused at first, then smirking. "So I take it you don't cook or sew, love?"

I smiled back and took a drink. "Not even upon pain of death."

His grin widened, gold teeth peeking from between those wicked lips. "Then you sound like my kind of girl."

"The brothels are down the street."

"Oh, trust me, I know where they are, darling. Very well, in fact. But I thought I might employ you under different circumstances, savvy?" He took a long drink of rum, concentrating his eyes on mine.

"What's the name of your ship?" I asked.

He leaned in, brushing his lips dangerously close to my ear, his breath low. Despite my better judgment, I could feel goose bumps along my neck and barely stopped myself from shivering. He whispered with intent, _"The Black Pearl."_


	2. All Things Considered

A year ago, I would have immediately labeled this (decidedly dark and only slightly handsome) man a daft drunkard for claiming ownership of the _Black Pearl._ But as any half-decent, learned pirate would know, there had indeed been multiple sightings of a ship flying black sails in the past months. It goes without saying that these sightings were accompanied by numerous tales and articles all on the account of...

"Jack Sparrow?" I asked, attempting not to sound as incredulous as I was.

_"Captain_ Jack Sparrow, love," he grinned another gilded grin, his dusky, cloudy eyes staring at me with sinful purpose.

I looked him up and down again. For some reason, his appearance seemed fitting. A popular moniker for the infamous Captain Jack Sparrow was "The Man Who Lived and Died a Thousand Deaths." Although it was just another ridiculous myth - probably started by the illustrious captain himself - he certainly did look the part. Lively, spirited, lustful, and yet disheveled and sea worn, in his own roguish way. I had little to no doubt that this man was, in truth, who he claimed to be.

In light of the fact, I proceeded with caution. Though the prospect of becoming a crew member aboard the _Black Pearl_ brought with it great fame and riches, so too was it wrought with danger, destruction, deceit, and above all: death.

"Don't tell me the captain of the most famous pirate ship in the Spanish Main has stopped in Tortuga just to indulge in the desires of the flesh," I said nonchalantly, taking a sip of my rum.

"Sticks and stones. There's never just one reason," he replied.

"Ah, but the simplest solution is usually the correct one," I countered.

"Touché," the captain conceded, taking a long sip of the crimson drink. "Tell me, darling, is your sword as sharp as your tongue?"

I nodded, hoping to exude an air of confidence while still treading lightly. "And twice as quick."

He grinned widely, weaving a finger through his mustache. "I do believe that you and I are going to get along _famously."_ He drew out the last word, again inching closer to me.

"If it concerns you, Captain Jack Sparrow, I'm fairly sure the proper adjective would be infamously."

Sparrow sat back now, still smirking. "Your sword must be very sharp indeed."

"Tell me, Captain Sparrow, when do you leave port?" I inquired.

"Two days. I do hope you'll grant me your pleasurable company until and beyond that morn," he replied suggestively. I began to wonder if anything this man said was not laced with innuendo.

"Why, my good captain, I do believe you and I have quite different definitions of pleasure," I responded, though quite sure that a night with Jack Sparrow would not be entirely un-gratifying.

"Mathematics, love: it all stems from the same desire."

"Agriculture, captain: one stem is never identical to the next."

"So you're a pirate _and_ a farmhand?" teased Sparrow.

I traced the rim of my glass with my finger before licking the liquid off and taunting in a sensual tone, "My abilities are limitless."

"Like the sea itself," the captain said in a husky voice.

As much as I would have loved to continue this game of cat and mouse, I withdrew. "I will consider your proposal of employment," I said stately, finishing off the last of the burgundy liquid in my glass and sliding it towards the bartender. It never reached its destination, as some nameless drunk grabbed it and threw it against the wall. Upon impact, a shatter rang out, quickly swallowed by the band's broken cacophony. Only in Tortuga.

Sparrow raised an eyebrow questioningly, not distracted in the slightest.

I sighed. "Let me rephrase that. I will consider your proposal of employment under your jurisdiction as captain aboard the vessel the _Black Pearl._ I will not, however, consider your proposal of employment under the terms of sexual deviance and debauchery."

The captain seemed disappointed. "I suppose that'll do, love."

I gave the dark man a frank look. "Captain Jack Sparrow, I'd very much like to come to an understanding with you. In light of the fact that I am, as it happens, a woman, you'd do yourself well to overlook that distracting quality and take into account my skills of the cutlass surpass that of many pirates and most certainly any drunken sailor you could spy in this pub. Is that clear?"

He merely smirked. "As rum."

"You'd also do well to remember that agreement. Now, on the eve before your departure of Tortuga, I would like to arrange a meeting with you here."

"I take it I shall not be bedding you tonight then?" The captain frowned.

I smiled, even as I watched his gaze dip to my chest. "You've no better chance than you had ten minutes past."

Letting out a sigh, he said, "Very well, then I shall meet you here at said date." His eyes met mine, dancing playfully. "After all, distance does make the heart grow fonder."

I grinned, rising up from my stool and leaning precariously close to the captain. "My dear captain, what you desire has nothing to do with affairs of the _heart,"_ I whispered, before grabbing his bottle of rum and making my way towards the door, conceiving quite the spectacle of swinging my hips just so.

Still perched on his stool, watching the sensual sway of the mystery woman's waltz, Captain Jack Sparrow came to the conclusion that whenever a woman was involved, in the end, the rum was always gone.


	3. A Test of Mettle

I suppose when I had originally proposed a meeting with the captain the eve before his departure, I did not realize what little window of time I had provided myself with. Despite this, over the course of many hours spent stewing in painful consciousness, as well as quite a troublesome sleep, I came to a decision.

As I entered the _Faithful Bride,_ yet again alight with drunken tomfoolery and raucous laughter, I spied a dark man sitting at the bar. His gaze made the acquaintance of mine, and, unmistakably, it was Captain Jack Sparrow. I made my way to the drinkery, slid onto a stool, and ordered some whiskey.

"Whiskey is a merchant's drink, dearie, I do hope you've not decided to fight the good fight, eh?" his rich voice greeted.

"Greetings to you as well, Captain. In response to your inquiry, decidedly not," I retorted.

"Aye, that be indeed terrific news."

"And yourself? I suppose it's always rum for you, is it?"

"Like to keep to me roots, love," he replied, taking a sip from his bottle.

I took a swig of whiskey, deciding small chat was of little interest to me. "I've an answer to your proposal, Mister Sparrow," I stated calmly.

"Oughtn't I assure you that it still stands?" he taunted playfully, leaning in. "It'd be a terrible trifle for you to embarrass yourself in front of all these respectable ladies and gents." He motioned to the men laughing and brawling, and the women drinking and flashing their goods to whoever would look.

"The greater portion of which by tomorrow morning will not even remember what way is up."

He grinned, and I continued, "I do hope by your insinuation that you do not intend on retracting your offer, dear Captain, for the perks of having a pirate of my caliber on board would indeed be," I pressed yet closer to him, lowering my voice, "rewarding."

Now, do not be deceived. I am by no means a common whore, accustomed to disbursing my physical attributes at the beck and call of anyone useful to me. I had no intention of going to bed with Jack Sparrow, captain of the _Black Pearl_ or not. But it is at these times, when the possibility of one's employment hangs by the listless thread of another's personal vendetta, that one must use all in one's powers to secure said position.

In short, it is to say that in the area of piracy, being a woman can be as much a setback as an advantage.

"I don't doubt that, darling." I noticed the crafty captain's hand on my knee, groping ever so slightly. I made a resolution to remove it with as much force as possible as soon as I had acquired the post.

"In regards to the fact that your proposal is undoubtedly still valid," I paused, letting him chew on the possibility of rejection for a moment, before punctuating the statement with, "I wholeheartedly accept."

Jack Sparrow's face delighted in the widest smirk I'd yet seen. "Peachy."

"That is to say, Captain, that I'd be no manner of refutable pirate if I did not inform you of both my strengths and my shortcomings." I felt his hand slither higher up my leg, keeping my voice calm and attempting to rush things along.

"I'm sure, given the circumstances, such obstacles can be overcome, savvy?" It was not difficult to peg Captain Jack Sparrow as a cad and a lecher, but I was determined to play by his rules, at least until the discussion was concluded. A respectable pirate knows when to dignify their position, but an intelligent pirate knows when to concede and place aside their self-importance, at least momentarily.

"I possess the skills to navigate, conduct cannon fire, the savvy of swabbing, sweeping, and scrubbing, the ability to row, and do all manner of pre-requisite piratey things," I began, and he nodded. "However, I cannot fire a pistol and successfully hit a target with any amount of accuracy to save my life."

Sparrow seemed to consider this for awhile, sipping his rum and blinking repeatedly. In the meantime, his hand rested shamelessly high on leg, rubbing slow circles. Any moment now...

"I suppose that'll do, darling. And now, for my circumstances." He gave me a wicked look, and I somehow dreaded what was to be said next. There was a long, drawn out silence - I'm sure meant only to make me uncomfortable - before, "Do you have the courage and fortitude to follow orders and stay true in the face of danger and almost certain death?"

I exhaled. It was the customary question for all new crewmembers. "Aye," I affirmed, knowing it was the only response acceptable. In all honesty, I had seen men walk the plank for daring to mutter "yes."

My new captain grinned, eyes sparkling with a combination of lust and boyish excitement. "Then I shall need to know your name."

Taking a deep breath, I was about to give it to him when a sloppy man reeking of bile and all manner of distasteful liquids slung an arm over me, reaching for my whiskey and finishing it off. I'm not a rash woman by nature, having become accustomed to faceless drunks attempting to woo me into their company, but I'd never come across one so bold as to steal my drink. There is little in this world that angers me to the point of useless violence, but the unfortunate fool had just struck a chord with one of my most infuriating annoyances.

"'Ow abou' I give ye a spin, eh, lassie?" he hiccupped. "Ye pro'lly dun cost too pretty a penny, 'eh? Not much to look at," he mumbled some more jabs at my dignity, giving me a generous amount of shameless once-overs before I had had enough. I took his arm off me and kicked him into a circle of men playing cards. The drunk hit the table, the cards flying everywhere. One of the players ceased this opportunity to steal a glance the other's hand.

"Oy! Ye've got five fours!" The other man quickly shoved his cards into his jacket, attempting to look innocent. "Ye bloody cheater!" I didn't bother contemplating the irony that a man peeking at another man's hand would accuse him of being a cheat. In any case, the first player punched the cheating man in the jaw, who then flew into another patron, knocking his drink out of his hands. Soon, havoc broke loose as the tavern band began to play their traditional brawl song: a fast paced dosado.

Sparrow gave me a devilish grin. "Got your blade?"

I patted the grip, my sword nestled nicely in its sheathe. "Only a fool would walk into the _Faithful Bride_ without one, Captain."

He withdrew his, aphotic eyes dancing. "Then let's see what ye've got!"

He rushed into the maelstrom of thrown punches, clashing swords and discordant gunshots. I smiled, following suit, knowing it had been all too long since my sword had been out for a good swing. I unsheathed my blade, spying Sparrow taking on three men at once out of the corner of my eye. His style of fighting was very much like him: lively and accurate yet boastful and disorderly to the point of being arrogant. I had to give him credit; he handled the cutlass better than most pirates I'd seen.

I snapped back to reality when a man came barreling at me, waving a dagger about haphazardly. Ducking beneath the blade, I turned and shoved my elbow just below his ribcage, effectively knocking the wind from his lungs. I kicked out his left foot, throwing off his balance as he went tumbling headfirst into the bar. Swerving on my heel, I righted myself just as another blade came down on me. Acting quickly, I blocked the downward strike before swinging my own blade in a circle, causing him to lose his grip, his sword flying out of his hands and gliding across the floor.

Shoving him aside, I fought my way to Captain Jack Sparrow, who was now effortlessly fending off two men with cutlasses. However, another, quite bulbous man was sneaking up behind him. The drunk raised his large, thick bottle of rum, and prepared to bring it down over Sparrow's head. Quickly, I placed my back to Jack's, delivering a swift kick to the large man's gut. He doubled over, and I took this moment to grab his bottle and finish off the contents before smashing it over his skull.

No sense in wasting good rum, I thought to myself.

As another man came swinging wildly at me with what I could tell was a dull blade, I barred it with my own. I used his moment of drunken confusion to my advantage, grabbing his collar and pulling him to a ninety degree angle before hitting the back of his head with the grip of my sword. The result was a resounding _thud_ before he fell to the floor.

"Satisfied, Captain?" I called over my shoulder, knowing he had already disarmed his previous opponents and was handling another.

"Unquestionably, love. What say you and I leave the drunks to their fun and go have some of our own, eh?" he replied, not bothering to raise his voice over the thundering of music and shouts.

I rolled my eyes. Even in the face of danger and utter discord, Captain Jack Sparrow had a one track mind. Nonetheless, I was eager to be rid of this place for the night. "Sounds like an accord!"

We easily cleared our way through the surging crowd as they quickly became interested in other enemies. Kicking the door of the tavern open, Jack Sparrow stepped into the warm night air. I joined him as we treaded into the clamoring street, the captain jaunting and weaving through more debauchery and inebriated foolishness.

"Where are we going?" I called over the pealing laughter.

"Where else, darling? To the _Pearl,"_ he answered.

To this day, I'm a little embarrassed to say my breath hitched in anticipation. I felt as if I were a young debutante, about to come out to her first ball. Only this ball was much better, and considerably more devious.

Somehow, I managed to retain my cool and effortless demeanor in time to reply in mock offense, "Why, Mister Sparrow, it's not even the third date."


	4. Rapture in Tortuga

Stepping onto the deck of _Pearl_ for the first time was a moment I would remember forever. Even still in Tortuga, I felt as if I had just crossed into an entirely different world. The uproarious noises of laughter, screams and gunshots seemed to drift away on the balmy sea breeze. All I heard at that moment was the soft sound of my boots against the dry wood of the infamous _Black Pearl,_ the soft rustling of the palm trees not far from the dock, and the gentle murmur of the small waves lapping against the ship.

Of all the ships in the Spanish Main, I had never seen one more beautiful than the _Pearl._

"Shall I give you a moment, love?" the captain inquired, snapping me out of my dreamlike reverie. Embarrassed, I nodded my head, hoping the dim moonlight wouldn't illuminate the blush I knew was painting my cheeks.

Moving to the ship's railing, I glided my hand gently along the rough, worn mahogany. The wood dipped and curved beneath my fingertips, each ridge a different scar of battle. A cut here, doting on about the mighty war between two islands; a large chunk absent there, speaking irritably of a poorly tied knot. My gaze followed the woodwork to the chipping floorboards, flying up the mighty mast to where the sails flapped in the wind. It was a like a mirage, one reached to but never attained: the moon glowing softly against those eternal black sails – that cloth as ragged and wicked as its captain.

_This is it,_ I told myself, still in awe. _I am standing on the _Black Pearl. _I am running my hand along the railing of the ship that was home to cursed pirates. I am looking at the sails that are feared by every port in the Spanish Main. I am here, on the ship that has never been outrun in its entire history. I am on the ship that _made_ history._

I stood there for a moment, letting the immortality of the moment seep into me. This was my dream realized. This was the pirate ship that every single member of the Royal Navy dreaded to one day encounter. This was ship that spawned innumerous legends and ghost tales. This was the _Black Pearl._

I had to will my eyes not to water from the sheer emotion of it.

"She's beautiful, ain't she?" I heard Sparrow say, before I noticed he was leaning over the railing beside me. He gave me a deep, penetrating look, not mocking as I would have expected. It was as if he knew what I felt, as if it was as how he felt from the very instant he first stepped foot on this ship to right now, gazing out at the sea. His gaze deepened, until a maelstrom – bound by years of calculated practice – danced merrily within it. I gained a very deep respect for Jack Sparrow in that moment.

"Yes," I responded airily, seeing no reason to mask it. "She is undoubtedly every bit as beautiful as the legends say."

Jack gave a short, bitter laugh. "I'm glad someone appreciates her as I do," he mumbled. Somehow I could tell emotional moments like this were rare for the captain, and I felt a touch of sympathy and honor that he had chosen to share one with me.

Registering what he said, a part of me also felt scandalized. To gaze upon the _Black Pearl_ and not see her for the mesmerizing enchantress that she was felt almost inhuman.

Heaving a sigh and putting most serious thoughts out of his mind, the captain stood up. "Would you like a tour?"

I nodded mutely.

As Sparrow led me about, showing me everything from the bridge to the brig, I was certain he was back to his usual self. Punctuating every description with innuendo, I was positive he was in his crowning glory when he opened the double doors and motioned inside. "And this be the captain's quarters." He paused, giving me another playful, casually seductive stare. "Or bedroom, as it were."

I grinned, wondering how I hadn't seen this on the horizon. "I'm sure it's quite spacious."

Jack sighed dramatically, regarding the empty room with an overplayed lovelorn look. "Aye, but it can be terribly lonely at times."

Mentally rolling my eyes, I reached in and shut the doors. "Well, that's a bloody shame now, isn't it?"

Sparrow grinned, following me back to the railing overlooking the ocean. "I can see you're not impressed, eh, love?"

I shrugged. "My humblest and most heartfelt apologies for not being absolutely vexed at the sight of a disheveled cabin, my good and honest sir."

He leaned on the banister beside me, observing the sea. "My vast and incredible intelligence of the feminine species tells me that you are not the average strumpet."

"Why, but you are indeed an intuitive man," I replied, exercising my dry wit.

"And the beauty of the _Pearl_ does not sway your decision to join me in the pleasurable and welcoming company of my quarters?" he pondered.

I ran my hand along the rail. "Captain Sparrow, do not be fooled. The _Pearl_ has done an excellent job of wooing me tonight." I turned to him. "It is you, I'm afraid, that should devise better tactics of seduction."

He grinned. "The scorn of a beautiful woman is almost more than this old seadog can bear, love."

"Somehow, I do believe the impregnable Captain Jack Sparrow will survive." I leaned off the railing and made my way to the other side of the ship, preparing to leave. "I shall go back into town and gather my things, and I will be here by five A.M. tomorrow morning."

The captain seemed saddened by my announcement of departure, no doubt disappointed that, yet again, he would not be sleeping with me. "Very well."

"Until morning, Captain." I gave him a quick salute and helped myself off the ship. As I made my way down the dock, feeling his eyes observing my every step, I already began to feel a touch of sadness and longing. Somehow, I sensed a small emptiness that beseeched me to turn back, and I found it quite hard to ignore the growing void.

Oh, don't be a bleeding girl about it, I reprimanded myself, you'll see the Pearl in the morning.


End file.
